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Winning the Cowboy's Heart
Jeannie Watt


Life was supposed to be less complicated here…But it’s not working out that way for Regan Flynn. Her new job at the high school came with a difficult boss and an even more difficult twelve-year-old student. Then there’s the girl’s charming cowboy father… Will Bishop is doing his best to raise Kylie on his own. But protecting her from the truth just got a lot more difficult with the arrival of the beautiful new teacher.Any future Will and Regan might have together would be burdened by the secret he can’t afford to reveal – to anyone.







“Are you trying to keep me from buying a horse?”



Will tilted his black hat back, enabling her to see his eyes without the shadow of the brim. And they were nice eyes – not deep brown, like Kylie’s, but blue-grey.



“That would be rather presumptuous of me.”



Regan let out a snort. “Yes. I agree.”



“Been talking to Kylie?”



“Yes.”



Will’s gaze shifted to the door of the room behind her. He paused before he brought his attention back to Regan.



“I am not trying to keep you from buying a horse. I am trying to keep you from making a mistake.”



Incredible. “And who are you to decide whether or not I’m making a mistake?”



Dear Reader,



What makes a person a good parent? Love, patience, dedication, willingness to sacrifice…the list goes on. Being a good parent means making a commitment and sticking to it, even when the going gets rough.



Will Bishop is a good parent, raising his headstrong daughter without benefit of a wife or immediate family. He’s doing the best he can, but he’s facing mystifying teenage-girl issues and, in spite of his efforts, his daughter seems to be following a little too closely in his own hellion footsteps for comfort. What’s a father to do? Persevere. Hang on. Hope for the best. Especially when his life is further complicated by a deep attraction to his daughter’s teacher, and having to contend with the secret he’s been keeping for so many years.



I wrote this story with the idea of exploring the difficulties of being a single parent – in particular, a single parent falling in love and wondering how to work a relationship into his already complicated life. I hope you enjoy Winning the Cowboy’s Heart.



I would love to hear from you. Please contact me at jeanniewrites@gmail.com.



Happy reading,



Jeannie Watt




Winning the Cowboy’s Heart


JEANNIE WATT




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To the Rays and Mr Stein,

the best principals ever,



To my headstrong children,



To my parents,

who raised their own headstrong children,



To my mother, a true horsewoman,



I dedicate this book.

Thanks so much for everything.


CHAPTER ONE

THE CALL Will Bishop had been dreading came at 2:45 in the afternoon, just when he was beginning to think he was home free. As soon as he hung up the phone, he grabbed his hat and headed for the truck. True to form, his daughter Kylie had started junior high with a bang.

Will knew the way to the office by heart—he’d visited the place a time or two during his own scholastic career at Wesley Junior and Senior High. He pulled off his hat and stepped inside.

“Hi, Will.” The secretary was the same woman who’d kept him company years ago, only a little grayer now and sitting in front of a computer instead of a typewriter. “Long time, no see.”

“Mrs. Serrano.”

“You can go in.”

Will wondered how many more times he was going to hear those words over the next few years.

He pushed the door open. Four faces turned his way. Kylie, of course, looking defiant as only Kylie could; Mr. Bernardi, the principal; Pete Domingo, the PE teacher; and a lady he didn’t know.

“Have a seat, Will.”

At least Bernardi had refrained from making any comments about old times. The last thing Will needed was for Kylie to think she was carrying on a family tradition, even if she was.

“This is Miss Flynn,” Bernardi said, indicating the dark-haired woman who was now regarding Will with an inquiring expression. “Miss Flynn is Kylie’s science and social studies teacher.”

Miss Flynn acknowledged the introduction with a nod and a smile that stopped short of her striking green eyes. She seemed cool and professional, exactly the kind of teacher that Kylie—and Will, back in the day—always butted heads with. In fact, Kylie was glaring at her now from under her lashes. Will sensed a long school year ahead.

“Will, Kylie has engaged in some questionable behavior that needs to be addressed immediately.” Bernardi sounded as if he was reading from a cue card.

“I see.” Will was an old hand at translating teacher speak. He’d heard enough of it over the years. “What did Kylie do that was questionable?”

Mr. Bernardi was about to respond when he was interrupted by Pete Domingo. “Let’s let Kylie tell her father what she did.”

“Good idea,” Bernardi agreed. “Kylie?”

Kylie sent Pete a smoldering look. “I got caught.”

No kidding. “Caught doing what?”

“Caught smoking after PE,” Pete Domingo said, forgetting his intention of letting Kylie fess up.

“Smoking!”

Kylie nodded slowly. If Will hadn’t been so utterly ticked off, he would have noticed his daughter trying to send him a message.

He glanced at Bernardi. “I’ll be taking care of this at home. What happens here?”

“We know there are others involved, but Kylie won’t name names.”

“I was the only one,” she said.

“We know that’s not true.” Bernardi sounded tired.

Kylie stubbornly shook her head, her straight dark hair shifting over her shoulders. She was no longer meeting anyone’s gaze. Instead, she stared down at the floor tiles.

Principal Bernardi let out a sigh. “We’ve already discussed this with Kylie. If she won’t tell us who else was there, then she’ll have to bear the brunt of the punishment alone.”

Will gave Kylie a long look. Her jaw was locked and she looked so much like his ex-wife at that moment that it almost frightened him. But even if she resembled Desiree, she mostly took after him.

“I understand why Pete is here, but…” Will glanced over at Miss Flynn. She hadn’t said a word and she didn’t appear as though she particularly wanted to be there. Unlike Domingo. The little general was enjoying this.

“They were outside my room,” she said. “There was a group of at least three, but Kylie was the only one I recognized.”

Will gave Kylie one last chance, even though he knew it was futile. “Kylie?”

She shook her head. Will stood. “Unless she needs to stay now, I think we’ll go home and discuss this.”

“This means an automatic three-day suspension, Will. School-district policy.”

“I understand,” Will replied. “Come on, Kylie. We’re going home.” Kylie got up from the wooden chair and headed for the door.

“If I get any names, I’ll let you know,” he told Bernardi, and followed his daughter out of the room. He was almost at the main entrance when he heard quick footsteps behind him. What now?

“Go to the truck,” he told Kylie, who went out the door without a word. Will turned to face Miss Flynn, fast approaching with purposeful strides, the expression on her face that of someone about to give helpful hints on how to handle his child. Well, he’d had enough input from educators for one day.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not going to beat her.”

“That’s happy news,” she replied mildly, and Will felt somewhat ashamed of himself. “I actually wanted to talk to you about another matter.”

“Like…?”

“I’m looking for a horse. A pleasure horse, and I heard you have some for sale.”

This was not what Will had expected. Not even close. He gave a slow nod of acknowledgment. “I did have some horses for sale, but they went fast. I only have one left at this point, and I’m afraid he won’t do for you.”

Miss Flynn’s eyebrows edged upward. “Why? I’m an experienced rider.”

“He’s a man’s horse.”

She regarded him for a moment. “There’s no such thing.”

“He was abused by a woman and now he doesn’t like women—not even Kylie. Some horses are like that.”

She looked as though she’d like to argue the point with him, but she didn’t. “Well, do you know of any other horses for sale around here?” She pushed her hair behind an ear, mussing the layers.

“Not right now.” It was true. There weren’t many suitable horses for sale in Wesley, Nevada, and he wasn’t going to direct her to the Taylors, who always had a horse for sale at some ridiculously high price. “You might try closer to Elko.”

One corner of her mouth tightened in obvious frustration and suddenly she didn’t look so teacherlike.

“I’ll let you go.” She rubbed the back of her neck in a way that made Will think he wasn’t the only one who’d had a bad day. “I knew this wasn’t a good time to ask, but I really want a horse. And since I was going to call about your newspaper ad anyway.…” She shrugged. “Bad judgment on my part.”

She turned then, walked back down the hall, leaving Will staring after her. He felt like a jerk.

He debated for a moment, then decided to rebuild his burned bridges later. Right now he needed to nudge the truth out of his daughter.

“So who are you covering for this time?” Will asked as he put the truck in gear. Kylie waited until they were officially off school property before she answered.

“Mark. You know what his dad would do to him.”

Will knew. Mark’s dad was a bully, but somehow Mark not only survived, he was a likable kid.

“What happened?”

Kylie gave a brief description of events, which played out pretty much as Will had expected. Mark, the geek, had been proving he wasn’t a geek by smoking, with Kylie watching his back. The part where Kylie had got caught and Mark hadn’t was still hazy, but Will let that slide for the moment.

“If you’re suspended, I can’t exactly let you go to the horse show this weekend, can I?”

Kylie’s jaw dropped. “But I didn’t do anything.”

“You were there.”

“But…”

“Smoking is wrong, and you were there,” Will replied, holding firm.

“I was there because of Mark. People pick on him because they can. It’s not right.” Kylie let out a huff of breath to emphasize the remark.

“Well, I really don’t think smoking was the answer. Do you?”

“No, but I couldn’t talk him out of it.”

“Then you should have walked away. You can’t go through life protecting people, Kylie. And I don’t see Mark standing up for you. He left you twisting in the wind.”

Kylie gazed at her father earnestly. “He doesn’t know. They got me after science and I didn’t have time to see him. I totally missed my last class while we waited for you.”

“And now you’re going to miss three days.”

“And the horse show,” she muttered sullenly.

“You aren’t going to be riding or working with your horse, either. I need some help fixing the pole corral and I think there’s some housework that needs attending to. We’ll stop by the school tomorrow and pick up your work.”

They drove a few miles in silence and then Kylie asked, “How come the new teacher knew you?”

“What makes you think she knows me?”

“The way she was looking at you.”

Kylie didn’t elaborate and Will decided it was best not to ask. “She doesn’t know me. She knows we have horses for sale and she’s looking to buy a horse.”

“But all we have left is the paint gelding.”

“I know.”

“He won’t do for her.”

Will smiled in spite of himself. “That’s exactly what I told her.”



“MISS FLYNN?”

Regan turned to see Pete heading down the hall toward her, his whistle bouncing on his belly.

“Yes?”

“Look, I don’t know how they handled things down in Las Vegas, but frankly, I’d appreciate a little more support.”

“I’m not sure I follow you.”

“A united front.”

Regan frowned, wishing he’d given her enough information to enable her to respond. His expression shifted toward impatience.

“I really think you could have backed me when I pointed out the other two boys that had probably been with Kylie.”

“But I wasn’t sure it was them.”

“Well, I was.”

In spite of not having seen them.

Regan forced a smile and refrained from pointing that out to him, in the interest of maintaining a peaceful work environment. She liked her new school. A lot. It had a small staff, nice-sized classes and one of her best friends from college worked there. Actually, when all her carefully made plans had blown up in her face, thanks to Daniel, her former colleague and jerk of an ex-boyfriend, it had been Tanya who’d encouraged her to move four hundred miles north.

“I’ll try to be more observant next time.”

Pete gave a curt nod. “It would help.”



REGAN’S NEW PRINCIPAL lasted less than a week.

Bernardi experienced chest pains on Thursday. On Friday it was announced he was taking an indefinite leave of absence. Pete Domingo, the only person on staff with administrative certification, would become acting principal in the interim.

“Pete Domingo?” Tanya moaned on the day of the big announcement. She flicked her smooth blond hair back over her shoulder. “Do you know what we’re in for?”

“A united front, I gather.” Regan perched on the edge of a student desk, waiting for her friend to finish her lesson plan.

“I’d rather have a monkey as an administrator. No, make that a baboon. Pete’s ego is entirely too big and he’s not concerned with learning. He’s a do-or-die coach. He just wants to dom-i-nate.”

“So do you, only in the academic sense.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go.” Tanya closed her book. “I can finish up tomorrow. Oh, by the way, my landlord knows a guy who’s selling a horse. Some kind of fancy quarter horse. He told me about it, but I can’t remember much. I think it’s female, has four legs and a tail.”

“Funny, but that’s exactly what I’m looking for.”

Tanya reached for the phone book on the edge of her desk. “I’ll find the number.”



TANYA WAS BUSY ON SATURDAY, so Regan drove to the landlord’s friend’s place alone. She was greeted by a man in cowboy gear who introduced himself as Charley. He led her to a panel corral, where a stocky bay mare stood.

“Her name is Bonita Bar Santos, but I call her Broomtail.”

“Broomtail?”

“She rubs her tail on the fence in hot weather and makes a mess of it,” Charley explained as he entered the corral with a halter. The mare lifted bored eyes and stood, docile, while he slipped the halter over her head and buckled it. Regan opened the gate and Charley led Broomtail out.

“Did you bring your saddle?”

“No.” Her saddle was English and it was still at her mother’s house. She’d have to send for it.

He dropped the lead rope and went inside the tack shed without tying up the mare. She cocked a hind leg and waited, ears at half-mast. After much clunking and banging, the guy came out carrying a dusty saddle in his left hand. “Only small one I have.” With his right hand, he put a blanket on the mare and smoothed it, then settled the saddle into place. He cinched it up. “Just let me get the bridle and you can take her for a spin.”

Regan rode for almost an hour, happy to be back in a saddle after too many years out of it. The horse moved slowly—pleasure rather than performance material. But she knew her stuff. She sluggishly picked up her leads, turned on the forehand and side passed. As Regan worked her, the mare gradually became more responsive, quicker in her movements. She tossed her head impatiently a few times on the way home and started to jig, but after her slow beginning, Regan took it as a good sign. Maybe the mare had life in her after all. Maybe all she needed was to lose weight and get some exercise.

“I hope I haven’t kept you from something,” Regan said after dismounting and handing the man the reins. He’d been looking at his watch when she returned and she felt bad for taking so long.

“Not at all.” He smiled hopefully. “Well?”

“I’ll think about it and let you know.”

His face fell. “Just a word of warning. There will be some people coming to see her tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll let you know,” Regan said firmly. “Thanks for showing her to me.”



IT WAS NOT A CALL Will wanted to make, but Zero Benson from the feed store had seemed pretty certain of his information. Zero wasn’t exactly the sharpest person in the world, but Will figured he’d better check things out anyway. He dialed Charley Parker’s number. The conversation lasted almost a minute before Charley hung up on him.

“Is Charley trying to sell Broomtail?” Kylie asked without looking up from her math book. Her collie pup, Stubby, lay at her feet, his chin resting on her shoe.

“When is he not trying to sell Broomtail?” Will went to the old-fashioned enamel sink and rinsed the coffeepot, then wiped down the counter.

“Charley’d probably be happy if someone stole her, then he wouldn’t have to feed her anymore.” Kylie erased part of an answer, then rewrote a few numbers.

“That would only work if he had her insured, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.”

“So, did the Martinezes have insurance?”

“Hardly anyone insures their horses around here, kiddo, except for maybe the Taylors. Too expensive.”

“So when their horses got stolen…” Kylie made a gesture with her pencil.

“They’re out of luck, unless we find them.” And it wasn’t looking good. Most stolen horses ended up in an out-of-state auction within days of being taken. The Martinez horses had been gone for three days.

“Should have freeze-branded them,” Kylie murmured before turning back to her homework.

“Ever hear that saying about the barn door and the horse?”

“Only when you say it,” she replied in a way that made him feel very old and out of touch.

Will settled in the kitchen chair across from his daughter and pulled his account books closer. He’d developed the habit of doing his paperwork while Kylie worked on her homework, finding that it kept them both on track. He now had a set of books he was proud of and Kylie was proving to be a much better student than he’d been.

Now if she could just stay out of trouble for a day or two.



THE MARE WAS no longer on the market. Charley called early Saturday morning to give Regan the news.

“Did you sell her?” she asked, thinking that if he had, he’d sold her within the past twelve hours.

“Not exactly. I just…changed my mind.”

Regan hung up the phone with a frown. Weird. The guy’d seemed anxious to sell the horse less than a day ago. She decided to chalk it up to small-town eccentricity.

She gathered her purse and car keys, ready to start phase two of her horse hunt.

Madison White operated the indoor riding arena at the edge of town and, according to people at school, if she didn’t have a horse, she at least had the connections to find one. Regan had already decided to see what the woman had to offer before making a decision on Broomtail, which was fortuitous, since the mare was now mysteriously off the market.

As it turned out, Madison had a horse for sale that was stabled at the arena. A nice, big horse with a nice, big price tag. A Thoroughbred that had been purchased as a jumper and had proven to be too hot for the girl who’d bought him.

Regan borrowed a saddle and mounted what felt like a bundle of dynamite. But once she got him moving, she found that he was smooth and smart. He just needed work, and Regan was looking for a project to fill her free time.

She did a quick calculation, decided to eat less for a few months and told Madison she wanted the gelding. She managed to dicker the price down by a couple of hundred dollars, but the purchase was still going to eat a hole in her budget. Regan didn’t care. She had a horse.

She made arrangements to continue boarding him at the arena until she got her pasture properly fenced, and then drove home, feeling richer rather than poorer.

Now all she had to do was hire a fencer, buy a water tank, arrange a vet check, send for her saddle and watch her pennies for a few months. Okay, maybe a year. But it didn’t matter, she had a horse.



CLAIRE TRIED TO BE EXCITED for Regan when she called to share her news. But since Claire had never owned an animal in her life, Regan knew her sister was having a hard time relating. Claire soon turned the topic to her primary concern.

“I can’t believe you left me alone in this city with Mom.”

“How’re your classes going?”

“I’m not wild about them. I mean, they’re easy enough, but…I don’t know. Something’s missing.”

Only Claire would say that engineering classes were “easy enough.” She was accidentally brilliant, according to their mother. She could do upper-level math with ease, but she found the things she was good at boring. She liked to dive into subjects she knew nothing about, learn what she could and then move on. An attention-deficit engineer. Probably not what the world needed.

“What’s missing?”

“I don’t know. Passion?” Claire must have sensed Regan’s smile. “Hey, you feel passionately about your job. Why shouldn’t I feel the same about mine? And you put your foot down when Mom wanted you to go to law school.”

“Yes, and you can do the same.”

There was a slow intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a long exhalation. “I’m not quite ready for that.”



KYLIE STAYED LATE on the day she returned to school, making up the science lab she’d missed the day before. Regan attempted to initiate a conversation once the girl was finished—attempted being the key word. In the wake of the smoking incident, Kylie wasn’t exactly warming up to Regan.

“Do you ride?” Regan asked after a string of frustrating monosyllabic replies to other questions. The conversation was becoming a battle of wills, but Regan wasn’t ready to give up.

“Yes.”

“Does your dad ride?”

“It’s his job.”

“Riding?”

“He starts colts for people.”

“I see.” Regan was beginning to feel as if she were starring in an episode of Dragnet.

“That’s what I’m going to do, too.” Ah, progress. Two answers with more than two words. Regan decided to press on. “Has your dad always been a horse trainer?”

“Pretty much.”

“What did he do before he started training horses?”

“I think he’s always trained horses. He used to ride rodeo, before he got hurt. I do junior rodeo in the summer.” Kylie pushed back the dark strands of hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

“You’re a lot like your dad, then.”

“Yeah.” Kylie gave a wry twist of a smile. “Even in ways he doesn’t get.”

Regan cocked her head. “Like how?”

“Like he keeps telling me I can’t be rescuing things, but he does it all the time.”

“He rescues things?”

“Horses. People.”

“People? How does he rescue people?” Kylie shrugged nonchalantly. “He saved

you from buying Broomtail, didn’t he?”

Regan just managed to keep her jaw from dropping. That was the end of twenty questions and Kylie knew it. Regan gave the girl a tight you-win smile and went to tidy up the lab equipment. She would be discussing the Broomtail matter further, but it would be with the father and not the daughter.

About a minute later Will’s big diesel truck pulled into the school parking lot. Good timing. Regan would just as soon get this over with while she was still annoyed.

“I’d like to talk to your father alone.”

“I’ll wait here.” It sounded like a procedure Kylie was familiar with.

“We’re not going to talk about you,” Regan assured her with a half smile.

Kylie couldn’t quite erase the “yeah, sure” look from her face.

Regan stepped out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind her, and met Will at the glass entryway a few feet from her room.

“Are you trying to keep me from buying a horse?” she asked without bothering to say hello.

Will tilted his black hat back, allowing her to see his eyes without the shadow of the brim. And they were nice eyes—not Kylie’s deep brown, but blue-gray.

“That would be rather presumptuous of me.”

Regan let out a snort. “Yes. I agree.”

“Been talking to Kylie?”

“Yes.”

Will’s gaze shifted to the door of the room behind her. He paused before he brought his attention back to Regan.

“I am not trying to keep you from buying a horse. I am trying to keep you from making a mistake.”

Incredible. “And who are you to decide whether or not I’m making a mistake?”

“I know the horses in this community. But more than that, I know the people selling them.” His expression was impassive. “I know a mistake when I see one.”

Regan narrowed her eyes. “And just why do you know so much?”

“Because I’m a deputy brand inspector. If it has four legs and eats hay, I’m probably involved in the sale.” His eyes went back to the door. “Do you think I could have my daughter?”

Regan didn’t budge. “Why was Broomtail a mistake?”

“She’s a very unpleasant mare most of the time.”

“Most of the time? But she seemed…” Regan’s voice trailed off as several aspects of her experience with Broomtail began to make more sense—the mare’s lethargic attitude, followed by a display of impatience. Charley glancing anxiously at his watch.…

Will saw that she’d caught his meaning.

“He gives her enough tranquilizer to make her less cranky and more salable. We had a chat the other night. I don’t think he’ll be doing it again in the near future.” He gestured to the classroom. “My daughter?”

Regan moved to her door and pulled it open, her mind still working over the Broom-tail issue. Kylie stumbled out a bit too fast, but the brand inspector didn’t seem surprised by his daughter’s sudden appearance.

“Let’s go,” he said. He met Regan’s eyes for a brief moment as he pushed the glass door open. Kylie slipped out under his hand and Will followed, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Regan gave her head a slow shake. It sounded as if Kylie was right. Her dad had rescued her.



“WERE YOU EAVESDROPPING on us?” Will asked as he put the truck in gear.

“I couldn’t hear through the door.

“I’ll take that to be a yes.”

“Dad,” Kylie said seriously. “I like to know what’s going on, if it concerns me.”

“It didn’t concern you.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

“How?”

“You guys didn’t even look at me when I went by.”

Will told her to knock off the eavesdropping, but he was impressed. His kid was observant, which was why she was good with horses. She could read cues. It was a valuable skill, one she seemed to be more talented at applying to people than he was. A bit of her mother coming through there.

“Something wrong, Dad?”

Will shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road.

“What are we eating tonight?”

He gave the standard answer. “Beef…”

“It’s what’s for dinner.” They spoke in unison, mimicking an old ad slogan from the Beef Council.

One of these days she’d probably grow tired of the games and routines they’d started when she was younger, but he still had a few years left. He hoped. Kids seem to grow up so fast.

“Anything else?”

“No,” he said facetiously. “Just beef.”

“Good. I was tired of vegetables, anyway.”

“How was school?”

“You didn’t hear from anyone, did you?” It would have been funny, if she hadn’t been serious.

“No.”

“Then it was fine.”

“Kylie.”

She grinned. “Gotcha.”

He rolled his eyes, wondering if he was ready for the approaching teenage years. Somehow he didn’t think so. He was still debating how to handle certain matters that would have to be cropping up soon. He wasn’t squeamish about girls’ growth issues, just uninformed. Okay, maybe he was a little squeamish. He was hoping he could get Beth Grant, Kylie’s best friend’s mom, to help with that part of Kylie’s upbringing. It wasn’t exactly fair, but neither was growing up without a mother. Father and daughter both had to do the best they could.

He pulled to a stop in front of the house and reached over the back of the seat for the bag of groceries.

“I see carrots.”

“There’s worse stuff below that. Spinach, beets, spuds and corn.”

“I liked the just-beef plan better.”

“I’m sure you did, but veggies are a fact of life.”



A STORM WAS MOVING IN. A full moon was in the offing. In Regan’s experience, those were usually the best explanations for the off-the-wall behavior of her classes on such a day.

Jared, the new guy, Pete’s long-term PE sub, stood in the hall with her. “I’m whipped,” he said. “I usually teach elementary. Now I know why.”

“This age grows on you.”

“When?”

Regan smiled at his comeback and he returned the smile crookedly. The bell rang and Jared exhaled and headed for his class.

Regan managed to keep a lid on things until sixth period, near the end of the day. Kylie’s class. Regan was teaching observation skills and since kids love nothing better than something gross and slimy, she’d invested in several calamari. The lesson was good—she’d simply picked the wrong day to teach it.

The trouble started as soon as the students were released to start their lab.

“Hey, Sadie,” one of the boys called, holding up his squid. “Doesn’t this look a lot like a spider?”

The girl immediately turned pale and stared straight down at the table. The boy wiggled the squid and a few students laughed, until they saw the look of death in Regan’s eyes. It had been a long day and she was not going to put up with this. She walked over to the offending student, took his books, led him to a desk and told him to read chapter two of his textbook, outline it and then answer all questions at the end.

She moved back to Sadie, who was still staring down at the floor with Kylie beside her, and discovered that the girl did indeed have a major fear of spiders. Regan assured her that the squid was not a spider and that she could observe it from a comfortable distance. “No one will bother you.”

A quick look around the class told her that everyone had gotten her message—or so she’d thought—until the students filed out after the quietest lab of the day and she realized that one of her specimens was missing.

She didn’t need it—her final class was social studies—but she couldn’t have an unauthorized squid floating around the school. She hated to think of what might happen if it fell into the wrong hands. She had to find that cephalopod.

Then a shriek in the hall gave her a good of idea of where to look. She hurried to the door and pushed her way through a throng of kids to see three people in the center of the hall—Pete Domingo, Sadie and Kylie. The missing squid lay on the floor near Pete’s feet.

“Pick it up.” He was talking to Sadie.

Sadie’s face was ashen. She shook her head, looking as if she was about to be sick. Domingo’s face grew red.

“I. Said. Pick. It. Up.”

The girl was close to tears. She didn’t move.

“Joseph threw it at Sadie. So Joseph should pick it up.” Kylie said hotly. Sadie was Kylie’s best friend and Kylie was bent on protecting her.

“I distinctly saw it in Miss Grant’s hand just before it hit me in the face.”

“I was just getting it off me.” The girl’s voice was shaky. Her entire body was trembling, but Pete didn’t seem aware of that. He’d just been hit in the face with a squid. The world was about to end.

“I’ll pick it up,” Kylie snapped. She started to reach for it, but Pete stopped her.

That was when Regan stepped into the center of the circle, calmly stooped down and grabbed the slimy creature. “I was wondering where this had gotten to,” she said evenly, looking Pete in the eye. “I’m glad you found it.” She turned and the crowd parted as she walked back to her room.

There was a silence and then— “Anyone who is not in class when that bell rings will have three days’ detention.”

The crowd broke up, leaving Kylie and Sadie standing silently in the center of the hall, uncertain whether they were supposed to go or stay. The bell rang and Regan paused at her door to see what was going to happen.

Domingo shook his head. “Three days, ladies.”

His voice was clearly audible in Regan’s classroom. She let out a breath and, knowing the kids were watching her reaction, carefully kept her face expressionless as she walked to the front of the class and started taking attendance. Inwardly she was seething.

Tanya was right. A baboon would be better.


CHAPTER TWO

“DAD, do you think you’ll ever get married again?”

Will managed to flip the hotcake he was cooking without muffing it. “Not anytime soon.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“Mark’s dad and stepmom are breaking up. He says it sucks.”

It did suck. No argument there. “Marriage is serious business, Kylie. Not something to be entered into lightly.”

“How about you and my mother?”

My mother. The shadow figure. Kylie rarely spoke of her, although she did keep a photo of her in her hope chest. The last Will had heard, Des had hooked up with a rodeo stock contractor and was living in Florida. He hoped she’d finally matured enough to try to stick it out in a relationship.

“We were young.”

Kylie speared a hotcake off the plate her father had set in the middle of the table. “That matters?”

“A lot of times it does. You can’t have a grown-up relationship if you’re not grown up.”

“Marriage must be a lot of work.”

“A good one is,” Will said as he poured more batter into the pan.

“Then how do parents have time for kids?”

Will didn’t know, since he’d never had a wife and a child at the same time. He winged it. “They work together to raise the kids.”

“How do they have time for each other?” Kylie slathered butter on the hotcake and started to eat, not bothering with syrup.

“They make time.”

“Mark’s parents didn’t.”

“How so?”

Kylie gestured with her fork. “He said his stepmom was always complaining that his dad paid more attention to Mark than to her.”

“So Mark’s feeling guilty?”

“He doesn’t like his stepmom, but he feels bad about his dad being so unhappy.”

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry. There aren’t any women knocking down my door.”

The phone rang. Kylie answered it and then wrinkled her nose as she held out the receiver. “It’s Madison… I think she’d like to knock down your door.”

Will took the phone with a mock scowl.

“Will? Madison here.” Madison always spoke as if she were slightly out of breath. “Did you get the contract for the clinic?”

“It came this morning.”

“Thanks for stepping in.”

It had been the third time in a year and a half he’d “stepped in.” He was beginning to suspect she wasn’t getting cancellations, “Are you sure you’re really booking a second trainer for these clinics?”

Madison laughed. “Honest, I am. Del cancelled the first time and Mike the second. I’m just lucky you’re close.”

“And agreeable.”

“That, too.” She still had a smile in her voice. “Think of all the good you’re doing for those horses whose owners don’t have a clue.”

“Hey, you already have me. You don’t need to sell me.”

“Actually, I’d like to get you to present on a regular basis. Two, three times a year—it wouldn’t be that bad.”

“I’ll get this contract signed and back to you tomorrow.”

Madison was enough of a trainer herself to know when to stop pushing. “Just think about it, Will.”

“Goodbye, Madison.”

Will turned down the burner under the pan and poured the last of the batter. He hated crowds and he hated talking, but Madison had a point about the horses. Most people who came to a training clinic were genuinely concerned about their animals, although there were always a few who thought bigger bits and spurs would solve most of their problems. Which was why Will often had more work than he could handle rehabilitating damaged horses.



REGAN HAD SUSPECTED her sister’s four days of phone silence were a sign of impending disaster and she’d been correct. Claire called early Saturday morning with a classic case of stress overload. She’d had an argument with one of her professors, followed by a fight with her boyfriend, then her roommate had spilled wine on her new cashmere sweater. But, Claire assured Regan, the biggest problem was their mother, who was having a hard time butting out of Claire’s life. Arlene had already lost one daughter to public service, and now the other one was damn well going to live up to her potential.

Regan listened patiently for almost fifteen minutes, letting Claire talk herself out. Finally, her sister wound down and asked Regan how she was doing.

Regan responded with a simple, “Fine.” It seemed easiest. “Do you want me to call Mom and see what I can do?”

“Would you?”

Regan always did, but she had been hoping when she put some miles between herself and her family that Claire and Arlene would somehow learn to deal with each other without getting a mediator involved.

Regan called her mother a few minutes later, negotiated a truce and then parried a few thrusts aimed in her direction.

Yes, she did like the smaller community she’d moved to. No, there wasn’t much opportunity for advancement in this school district. No, she wasn’t going to keep in touch with the Education Development Authority (EDA), a private curriculum-development company that she’d hoped to work for only months before. There was no way she would work for them now that Daniel had taken a job there. Besides, she had a job she liked.

Unfortunately, Arlene was not convinced. By the time Regan hung up, she was exhausted. And she was thinking about Daniel again. She made herself stop. It was bad for her blood pressure.



THE MUSTANG MARE circled the round pen at a floating trot, her nose high in the air, her attention outside the rails, on anything but Will, who stood near the center. Her objective was fundamental. Escape.

Will kept her moving, using his body language to propel her forward, to control her direction. Finally, she shifted an eye toward him as she trotted by, flicked an ear back. Will’s gaze immediately dropped from her head to her hindquarters and he took a backward step. She slowed, uncertain, then decided she would rather ignore him and escape. Will upped his energy, moving the mare forward again.

A few circles later, another glance, another ear flick. Will stepped back. The mare slowed, both eyes on him now. He took another step back, rewarding her attention by reducing the pressure on her. She slowed still more, eventually coming to a stop, her eyes on Will. They stood and studied one another. Will took a single slow step forward and the mare made her decision—no one was going to control her. Will set her moving again.

Will had made some major headway with the mare by the end of the session. Sometimes with mustangs, especially older ones, it took almost twice as long to teach a concept, but once they got it, the knowledge was deeply engrained. He had yet to saddle her, but he had been able to rub her all over, desensitize her body, pick up her feet. He’d start again tomorrow and see what she remembered.

It had been a good day, made better by a phone call from the head brand inspector late that evening. Trev’s laid-back voice actually held a note of excitement. “We located Martinez’s horses.”

“You’re kidding. Where?” Kylie, who was settled at the kitchen table with her homework, glanced up, a hopeful expression in her dark eyes.

“Idaho. A total fluke, but, hey, we have them.”

“How about the thieves?” Will gave Kylie a thumbs-up and she grinned.

“We don’t have them.”

“Does Martinez know?”

“He’s already on his way north. I thought you’d want to know that we’re no longer batting zero.” No, but they were close to it. Six incidents of horse stealing in the past six months and this was the first recovery. Trev filled in the details and then said, “Heard about Kylie today. Pretty funny.”

“Yeah.” Funny if it wasn’t your kid who’d popped the school bully in the eye. Fortunately, she’d lived to tell the tale. Kylie’d always been a pretty good sprinter. “Hey, I need a favor. I’m looking for a pleasure mount. Would you let me know if you hear of anything?” Will scuffed his boot along the floor as he spoke. Kylie’d forgotten to sweep again.

“For Kylie?”

“No. I have a friend who’s looking.” Or, more accurately, he wanted to make peace with his daughter’s teacher and this seemed like a good way to do it.

“I’ll let you know. I think McKirk might have some horses for sale. He was talking about reducing his herd, now that his kids are in college. What price range?”

“Not a clue. Just let me know if you find anything.” Will hung up a few seconds later and turned to face an incredulous daughter.

“Is it Miss Flynn? Is she the friend who’s looking for a horse?”

“It’s an expression.”

“Good. I don’t want you to be friends with my teachers.” Kylie gave a shudder.

“I’ll try and be careful about that.”



ALL OF THE SQUID WERE MISSING.

Instead of creating a hot-weather biohazard in the school Dumpster, Regan had stored them in the staff freezer on Tuesday, planning to throw them out on trash day. And now they were gone.

Regan shut the freezer and tried to ignore the sinking sensation in her midsection. Perhaps the custodian had seen the gross creatures and disposed of them. Or Pete had found them and tossed them before another one hit him in the face. There could be no other explanation.

Regan caught sight of Tanya’s distinctive blond hair through a crowd of students moving down the hall to their class. With some careful maneuvering, she managed to catch up with her friend.

“Do you think eight missing squid are a problem?”

Tanya stopped dead, forcing the current of students to flow around them. “Here at school?” Her blue eyes widened. “No, Regan. No problem at all.”

But the morning passed without any strange incidents and Regan was able to convince herself that the custodian had indeed cleaned out the freezer. Kylie had initially aroused her suspicions by being uncharacteristically subdued, but as the class wore on, Regan decided that the girl was merely distracted.

“Are you all right?” Regan asked after the bell.

“I’m fine.” Kylie’s expression was not friendly. “Did you know that my dad is trying to find you a horse?”

“He is?” If Kylie had thrown out the statement to sidetrack Regan from thinking about squid, the strategy had worked beautifully.

“Yeah. But I don’t think you should read anything into it.”

Regan cocked her head at the kid. “What could I possibly read into it?”

“Maybe that he was doing it because he likes you. That isn’t why he’s doing it.”

Regan managed not to laugh and say, I’lltry not to get my hopes up.

“I expect he’s doing it because he knows the horses around here,” she suggested instead.

“Yeah. And he doesn’t like it when people get horses they can’t handle. That’s how horses get hurt and ruined, you know.”

Regan gritted her teeth. Thank you for thevote of confidence, Mr. Bishop.

She drew in a sharp breath. “You can tell your father that I’m buying a horse from Madison White and that I’ll do my very best not to ruin him.”

Kylie nodded gravely, missing Regan’s irony. She picked up her books and left the room.

Regan gathered her materials for the next class. She wasn’t going to think about Will right now. No sense taking her frustrations out on an innocent social studies class.

At the end of that class Regan discovered her overhead projector was no longer working. A quick investigation revealed that the bulb was missing.

A strange day was getting stranger. Someone had stolen it, and quite recently, too, since she’d used the machine just before lunch.

Who would want to steal an overhead projectionbulb?

Regan rushed to the office between classes to get the key to the supply room. The student aid looked at her with surprise. “Mr. Domingo doesn’t give out the key. He opens the supply room himself.”

Regan let out an exasperated breath and set off to find Mr. Domingo, the supply Nazi. He was in the gym, counting uniforms.

“There’s only one more period,” he said when she explained that she needed a projector bulb. “Can’t you make it?”

“No. I need my overhead to teach the lesson.” She stared at the uniforms. “Are you putting those in numerical order?”

“It’s easier to keep track of them that way,” he muttered. “Come on.” Pete marched out of the gym and down the long, dark hall that led to the supply closet. He turned the final corner ahead of her and then let out a sharp cry and swatted wildly at something that appeared to be attacking his head.

Regan gasped as Pete reeled backward, cursing and thrashing, until he finally tripped over his own feet and ended up flat on his butt in front of her.

Several of the…things…seemed to fly off him as he landed, and then a familiar smell hit Regan’s nostrils. Squid. Quite possibly freshly thawed.

Domingo glared up at her. A limp tentacle was stuck to his shoulder. Another was attached to his back. Several other squid parts were suspended from the doorframe above him.

He flicked the tentacle off his shoulder, radiating fury. Regan tried to think of serious things—SATs, mortgage payments, the nightly news. It wasn’t working.

“Who had access to these squid?” he demanded, wiping a smear of slime from his face.

“I don’t know. I was keeping them in the staff freezer and planned to throw them out on trash day, but…they were missing this morning.”

“Why didn’t you report this?” His face was dangerously red.

“You want me to report missing squid?”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you had. You are responsible for this.”

The bell rang. Regan pulled in a deep breath. “No, Pete. I’d say you’re responsible. Maybe if you weren’t so over-the-top with your discipline policy, you wouldn’t be covered with squid parts right now.”

“You can’t talk to me like that.”

Regan flicked a piece of slippery cephalopod off the wall. “I need to get to class. Are you all right?”

She was rewarded with a furious look, which she took as a yes.

“There will be no more seafood in this school!” Domingo shouted as she rounded the corner without her lightbulb. She decided then and there she’d bring shrimp salad for lunch every day for the rest of the month.

The next day, the Wesley staff and students discovered that hell had no fury like a principal who’d been punked.

Pete Domingo had no evidence, no suspects. All he had was a head full of possibilities, a school packed with smirking students and staff who’d heard about what had happened and had thought it funny, too.

Student after student was called down to the office to be grilled. All had returned to class looking shaken, but also vaguely satisfied. Kylie and Sadie were subjected to a longer inquisition than the other kids called from Regan’s class, but they came back unscathed. No one confessed and, at the end of the day, Pete was no closer to solving his crime than he’d been when he was sitting on the floor in front of the supply-closet door, flicking tentacles off his clothing.

The staff avoided being seen gossiping in groups. No one wanted to be accused of conspiracy and no one wanted to relight Pete’s very short fuse.

“You’ve been a good sport about this,” the librarian whispered, late in the afternoon, as she scanned Regan’s reference book. “I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble.”

“I’m fine,” Regan whispered back. “But I wish I knew who did it. I’d kind of like to shake their hands.”

The woman winked and then nodded toward a table of three geeky eighth-graders who had been thoroughly reamed out by Domingo a few days before for some petty infraction.

“You’re kidding,” Regan mouthed.

The librarian gave her an arch look and disappeared into the stacks.

A few long hours later Regan was in her kitchen making tea, peppermint tea, to help combat the stress headache she’d acquired.

A windstorm had started brewing late that afternoon and was now in full force, bending the trees and rattling the windows, and at first Regan thought the noise at the front door was a blast of wind. When she heard it again, during a lull, she realized someone was knocking.

She glanced down at her after-work wear—a tank top, sweat bottoms and fuzzy socks. Short of ignoring the door, there wasn’t much she could do about her appearance and she couldn’t exactly leave someone standing outside in a windstorm.

Or could she?

Will Bishop was out there, his shoulders hunched as the wind whipped at his clothing.

A gust caught the storm door as she pushed it open, and Will caught it just before it hit him. “Do you want to come in?” She raised her voice to be heard.

“For a minute.”

Okay. She could deal with a minute. He’d barely gotten inside when another blast hit.

“Does the wind do this a lot?”

“We get some good storms here.”

She wondered if she should ask him to sit down, offer him something to drink. Then she glanced at him and decided no. He had some reason for coming and it wasn’t social, so she’d skip the niceties.

“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” Will said, getting right to the point, “but I’d like to know… Do you think Kylie is involved in this squid thing?”

Those damned squid again. She’d had it up to here with squid—especially when they brought parents to her house.

“Have you asked her?” she asked with a touch of impatience.

“She says she’s innocent.” The for once went unspoken.

The house shook with the force of the wind. Twigs and pebbles bounced off the windows, but Regan’s attention was focused on Will and the deep concern she saw on his face. This man was worried about his daughter and she owed him an honest answer.

“I don’t know if she was involved, but my gut feeling is no. I’ve heard that it was actually some eighth-grade boys, but I’m not sure.”

Will put a hand on the back of Regan’s recliner. “Domingo harassed Kylie twice today. The second time he came on pretty strong, trying to force her to confess.” His expression became stony. “If he starts again tomorrow…Well, I wanted an independent opinion before I went in to have a, um, chat with Pete.”

“Everyone’s a suspect, including the staff.”

Will let out a breath and dropped his hand, ready to leave now that he had his answer. “Thanks. This helps.”

“Would you like some tea or something before you go?”

He’d started for the door, but now he turned back, looking surprised. Regan was a little surprised herself. Her mother had hammered manners into her, but she hadn’t realized to what degree. “Since you’re here,” she said lamely.

“I need to be getting home. Kylie’s supposed to be starting dinner and I need to make certain the vegetables don’t get burned mysteriously. But thanks. Especially after, well, everything.”

She followed him to the door. He stopped before going out. “I would have called, but you don’t seem to have a number.”

“Unlisted. I like to avoid irate parents at report card time.”

“Irate parents tend to show up on the doorstep around here.”

She smiled. “I noticed.”

Their gazes held for a second and then he smiled. And, oh, what a smile.

Regan blinked and then Will ducked his head and stepped out into the bad weather. Regan grabbed the storm door, fighting the wind to latch it shut. It shook, making an odd noise, but it held.

She settled into her chair with her lukewarm tea and unsettled thoughts, listening to the house try to blow down around her, hoping she would remember her vow to stay away from damaged men.



APOLOGIZING had been the right thing to do.

Realizing that his daughter’s teacher was attractive was a guy thing to do. But it had been a long time since Will had felt such a gut-level draw toward a woman and it perplexed him. Well, it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Wrong time. Wrong circumstances. Probably the wrong woman.

Will propped a foot on the lower rail of the pole corral and watched his horses graze as his daughter rode bareback at the far end of the pasture. The windstorm had blown out as rapidly as it had blown in, leaving the air oddly still. Will had zillions of branches to collect around the place, but he’d start tomorrow while Kylie was at school. It was a good way to stay close to the house and the phone, in case that jerk Domingo called.

Kylie started cantering a pattern, practicing her flying lead changes and probably winning big trophies in her head. It was almost dark and a school night, but Will was glad his daughter was enjoying the things a kid should be enjoying, things he’d never gotten enough of at her age. He’d been too busy dealing with his old man. The phone rang and he jogged to the house, scooping up the receiver on the eighth ring.

“Hey.” It was Trev. And he sounded stressed.

Will made a guess as to what was coming next. “More livestock stolen?”

“No.” There was a silence, and then he said, “I saw your brother in Elko today.”

Will stilled. “Brett was in Elko?”

“Yeah. He’s working for the Friday Creek Ranch. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Thanks.” Will pressed his lips together. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was having a hard time thinking at all.

“I didn’t talk to him, but I thought you’d want to know,” he repeated.

“Yeah, Trev. Thanks again.”


CHAPTER THREE

THE NEXT MORNING Will drove Kylie to school in a haze. She’d missed the bus, but he’d skipped the usual lecture on responsibility and simply told her to hurry so he could get back home and start working the horses. He was fully booked and it took a good part of the day to put in his contracted time on each animal; after which he still had to clear the windfall branches and conduct a brand inspection for a horse sale.

“You okay, Dad?” Kylie asked when they reached the school. “I mean, you didn’t yell at me about the bus.”

“I’m fine. Just tired. I didn’t sleep very well.”

“Too much coffee, probably.”

“Probably. Behave, kid. And don’t miss thebus!”

She grinned and got out of the truck, oblivious to the fact that her jeans were getting too short and totally unaware that her father’s heart was squeezing tight as he watched her join a group of friends.

He pulled out of the lot and drove at the posted snail’s pace to the end of the school zone. He passed Kylie’s bus going in the opposite direction. The driver waved and Will forced himself to wave back, although he didn’t think it would have killed the driver to wait a few seconds while Kylie found her history book.

Right behind the bus was Regan’s small car.

So Kylie wasn’t the only one having time issues that morning.

He accelerated as soon as he was out of the safety zone, then made a conscious effort to slow down. With only a couple hours of troubled sleep, he wasn’t as alert as he should be.

Couple of hours? Probably more like thirtyminutes. He’d finally dozed off just before the alarm rang. And then he’d been instantly awake and the worries had come crashing down on him.

Why the hell was Brett back?

It had been more than ten years since he’d last seen Brett and it had not been a happy parting. In fact, someone had had to call the sheriff and Will had barely escaped a night in jail. Brett had not.

They hadn’t spoken since that night. Brett had left town the next morning and that had been the last Will had seen or heard of his brother.

Now he was back. Why?

The thing that really set Will on edge was that he wasn’t quite sure about the legalities of his situation. He might be better off if he did know, but looking into those things meant opening a can of worms he was inclined to leave firmly closed. He wouldn’t do it—not unless he absolutely had to. Brett was a good eighty miles away at the moment and he’d better stay eighty miles away. If he didn’t, he’d be a sorry man.



REGAN PARKED in the only available staff space, some distance from the back door. She grabbed her work bag off the passenger seat and made a dash for the teachers’ entrance just as the bell rang. Flinging the door open, she ran smack into Pete.

“Ah, Miss Flynn,” he said, looking a bit like a satisfied bullfrog.

“Sorry I’m late.” She tried to speak calmly, even though she was winded from her sprint. “I had a problem this morning.” As in, an enormous elm branch on top of her new fence had stretched the wire and popped the staples; another large branch lay across her driveway, too big for her to do anything about. It had taken her almost fifteen minutes to work the first leafy monster free of the drooping fence wire. Even then she could have made it to work on time by driving around the branch that was blocking her drive, if her mother hadn’t called just as she was walking out the door. Claire she could put off, but not her mother.

“You do know it’s district policy to phone when you’re going to be late?”

Regan nodded and refrained from telling him she had called, but Mrs. Serrano had been away from her desk. No sense having Pete jump all over the secretary, too.

He gave Regan a stern look, then abruptly turned and stalked off on his standard morning hunt for marauding pranksters. Regan secretly wished the pranksters success as she unlocked her classroom.

It might have been the aftermath of the squid inquisition, or it might have been that the students were hoping for the appearance of new slimy specimens to use for various nefarious purposes, but, whatever the reason, they paid close attention to Regan’s lesson on classification. And she’d wisely opted to use an utterly benign material for this lab: leaves.

At first the kids seemed disappointed, but as the lab progressed the general mood became lighter—to the point where Regan began to wonder if Pete was going to find his car full of foliage when he left work that day. Once the thought had occurred to her, she issued a stern warning about the misuse of lab materials. The kids looked as if they were listening and a few even nodded after she spoke, but she’d taught for long enough to know that kids could look as if they were listening attentively and still not hear a word she said. All she could do at this point was hope for the best.

“Regan, what are you doing?” Tanya asked as she walked into the teachers’ lounge several hours later.

“Watching Pete’s car.”

“Do I want to know why?”

Regan turned back to the copy machine, which was happily churning out ninth-grade history work sheets.

“I’m trying to avoid trouble not of my own making.”

“I knew I didn’t want to know.” Tanya, a one-woman cleaning machine, went to the sink and started rinsing and drying coffee cups. “So why were you late this morning?”

“The wind blew a branch down on my fence and I had to get it off.”

“It couldn’t wait?”

“I needed to call the fence man, if it was damaged. He’s kind of a slow worker and I want to get Toffee home this weekend.”

“Was there that much damage?”

“Yes. I can’t tighten the stretched wire myself, so I called him. He’s going to try to get out there before the weekend.” She tightened one corner of her mouth. “Emphasis on try.”

Tanya gave her a sympathetic look just as Karlene, the girls’ PE teacher, came in and flopped down in a chair, blowing a few of her short brown curls off her forehead. “Ever have the feeling that you wanted to kill your boss?”

“Shh.” Tanya said. Pauline Johnson walked into the room just then, her high heels clicking on the tiles with metronomelike precision, the hem of her skirt hitting exactly midknee and her pale hair carefully lacquered into a French twist. She gave her colleagues a professional smile and went to check her mail. After sorting it, she marched over to the copy machine.

“Do you have many more?” she asked, indicating the masters Regan held in her hand.

“Two more sets.”

“We really need to have a schedule for this machine.”

“We pretty much have one,” Tanya pointed out. “We’re supposed to use it during our prep periods.”

“I’m talking about before and after school.” She gave a sniff as Regan positioned another master copy in the machine. “I’ll talk to Pete about this. I think it’s important.”

Regan stubbornly went on with her copying, in spite of Pauline’s impatient gaze boring into her back. Every school seemed to have a Pauline on its staff and Regan had plenty of practice dealing with them—her last school had had no fewer than three. One Pauline was no problem at all.



WILL DIDN’T GET ANY SLEEP that afternoon, though he’d promised himself he would. The day was simply too jam-packed. He put in an hour on each of the horses he was starting and he got the biggest branches piled up and ready to burn, the smaller ones left for Kylie to stack after school. Then Will got his inspection book out and headed to the Taylor ranch.

The Taylors had sold yet another overpriced horse, this time to a first-time horse buyer from Elko. The buyer seemed pleased as punch to pay double what the animal probably was worth. Will silently documented his inspection, noting the horse’s brand, sex, age, color and markings. He handed the book to Todd Taylor to sign, then peeled off the copies.

At least the animal was well trained, so the new owner wasn’t buying trouble. Todd paid the inspection fee, grumbling about the recent increase, which amounted to about one fifth of a percent of the purchase price. Will felt bad for him. Especially when he watched Mrs. Taylor drive up in her gleaming new SUV, waving as she eased the big machine into a three-car garage.

“So, how does Kylie like her teachers?” Todd asked after the garage door had closed.

“So far, so good.”

“Great.” Todd smiled. He continued to smile until Will gritted his teeth and asked the question he knew Todd wanted him to ask. “How’s Zach doing in football?”

Todd launched into a ten-minute spiel. Will nodded. A lot. And then finally managed to sidestep his way to his truck and reach for the door handle.

“Oh, you probably have to be going. Well, anyway, be sure to go to the game next Friday. Zach will be starting and I think you’ll see what I’ve been talking about.”

Will gave a noncommittal nod and got into his truck.

On the way home he took the loop, even though it added a couple miles to the trip, passing by Regan Flynn’s house to see what havoc the windstorm had wrought, wondering if she had a hole in her roof or other major damage that had caused her to be late that morning.

He didn’t see much wind damage—just a few scattered branches—and then he wondered just what the hell he was doing driving by her house in the first place.

Looking at the wind damage. Right.

He was curious about Regan Flynn.

Shit. As if he didn’t have enough trouble without adding to it in a way he’d promised himself he wouldn’t—at least not while Kylie was still living at home.



REGAN LIKED WORKING in Madison’s arena, even if it was a little pricey. It was well kept and in addition to the large covered arena there were several paneled work areas outside. Today she chose to work inside, since the wind was starting to blow again. She’d managed to drag the big branch off the drive before she left and was hoping there wouldn’t be another branch in its place by the time she got home.

“That’s quite an improvement,” Madison called almost an hour later, after Regan finished her last training pass of the day.

Regan eased Toffee to a halt and dismounted as Madison walked toward her, carrying a sheaf of papers in one hand and a cell phone in the other.

“He’s coming along,” Regan agreed, rubbing the gelding’s forehead. She’d spent a good forty-five minutes working him over both ground poles and a series of foot-high jumps, talking to him with her hands and her body and teaching him to yield to her cues.

“He likes the work,” Madison commented. “You used to show jump, didn’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“After watching you ride a few times, I figured you had to have been in competition somewhere, so I Googled you.”

“I see.” Regan wasn’t sure that she liked being Googled.

“Do you have any plans to compete again?”

Regan smiled as she slipped the reins over Toffee’s head. He pushed her with his nose, nearly knocking her off balance. It was getting to be a habit. She put her hand on his nose and firmly pushed his head away before turning her attention back to Madison.

“Those days are long gone. I just want to ride for my own pleasure.” She started leading the horse toward the gate as she spoke, fighting to keep him from crowding her space. “Kind of a sanity saver, you know?” she said through gritted teeth, wishing Madison wasn’t there to witness the power struggle. When she was on Toffee’s back, there was no question as to who was in control. On the ground, he had both the height and the weight advantage, and he used them. He was very disrespectful.

“You might consider teaching a jumping class,” Madison said, eyeing the horse as she opened the gate for Regan, but saying nothing about the obvious. “People would be interested and I like to offer a variety of classes here at the arena.”

Regan gave a brief nod. She wouldn’t mind teaching a class, once she was settled into her real job. It would be a good way to meet people who didn’t have kids in school.

“All you have to do is book the times with me, charge the fees set on the arena rate chart and give the arena thirty percent of the proceeds.”

“Is that all?” Regan replied, thinking it sounded like highway robbery, since she’d seen the rate schedule.

“You’d have access to the jumps and all the other equipment, and I’d put you on the calendar of events, which goes out in the newspaper and over the radio.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“You know,” Madison said as they reached the stall, “I’m putting on a training clinic next weekend. You’ve seen the advertisements, haven’t you? Del Gilbert and Will Bishop?”

It was impossible not to see them. They had appeared that morning and were plas-tered all over town—the grocery store, the post office, even the school.

“You, uh, might consider going.” Madison shoved the cell phone into her pocket and handed Regan yet another paper advertising the event. “I give a ten percent discount to people who board with me. All you have to do is bring this paper with you. There’s a discount code stamped on the bottom.”

“Thanks,” Regan said. “I had planned on going.” She’d never seen anyone start a horse from the ground up and she’d heard enough about Will’s abilities to be curious.

“It’s worth the fee,” Madison replied. Regan had a feeling she could have said she’d like to watch the tractor till the arena and Madison would have told her it was worth the fee.

“There’s something else. I was wondering how much longer you plan to board Toffee here. I’m getting calls from people who want a stall and I’m full up.”

“The fence was finished yesterday—just in time for the windstorm to bring a big branch down on top of it. I need to have the wire tightened again before I can bring him home.”

“Well, it shouldn’t take long to do that.” Madison spoke confidently, making Regan believe she’d never worked with contractors. “I’ll call Trev or Will about doing a brand inspection and make arrangements for one of them to haul Toffee to your house whenever they’re available.” Madison waved at a person who’d just walked in the stable door and then turned her attention back to Regan. “You don’t have a trailer, yet. Right?”

“Not yet. Do you think they’d mind hauling for me?”

Madison shook her head no.

“Great. I’ll pay them, of course. But I won’t be available on a weekday until after school hours.”

“When is that? Three o’clock?”

“Better make it four.” She knew Pete wouldn’t bend the rules for her and let her leave a little early.

“I’ll give you a call.”

“Thanks.”

Madison smiled a nice-to-do-business-with-you smile before walking down the aisle between the stalls, slipping clinic discount flyers under each of the nameplates.

Regan pulled her stall door open and Toffee all but walked over her in his hurry to get to his hay. She firmly smacked his chest with the flat of her hand. “No,” she told him. He stopped and let her take off the halter. As he walked away, Regan leaned against the edge of the door frame, admiring his lines and gleaming coat and wondering how on earth she was going to get him to respect her. She’d never handled a horse with no manners before and she knew she needed to do something about it.

With luck, the clinic would give her a place to start.



BY THE NEXT DAY it was obvious that, although Pete hadn’t fully given up on his squid-related prankster hunt, he was winding down. He stalked around the school scowling, almost a defeated man. But then, just after lunch, he received an ego boost of such massive proportions that it had to be shared with the staff in an emergency after-school meeting.

“This feels bad,” Tanya murmured behind Regan, as they entered the meeting room.

Pete did look remarkably smug, rocking on his heels at the podium and waiting for the staff to straggle in, most of them showing signs of irritation at having been pulled away from their after-school prep time. And most of them seemed to have an idea of what was coming.

Mr. Zeiger, the school superintendent, stepped to the front of the room. “I wanted to tell you, in person, that although Mr. Bernardi is doing better, he has decided to retire. The board met last night and rather than commence an employment search now, we’re going to continue with the current situation. Mr. Domingo will continue as acting principal until the end of the school year.”

Karlene raised her hand. “When will you advertise this job?”

“We’ll fly it in February and interview in March. The position officially begins in July. That’ll give the successful candidate a chance to tie up loose ends.” Zeiger gave Pete a small nod. “Unless, of course, he’s local.”

Pete’s chest swelled so much that Regan began to wonder how his buttons held. “Thank you, Mr. Zeiger.”

The superintendent smiled and then turned his attention back to the group. “On a more serious note, the Renshaw family is still dealing with some huge medical bills and they’re trying to avoid bankruptcy. Our schools are in good shape, financially, so the board has agreed that a percentage of the proceeds from our independent fall fund-raisers can be donated to this cause. Also, the high school’s FFA club is organizing an auction to be held in October, and there’ll be various bake sales and car washes, too. I know you’ll support these events as best you can.”

There was a general murmur of approval. Even Pete looked supportive.

“Who are the Renshaws?” Regan asked Tanya.

“They work for the district. Mr. Renshaw in the bus garage, and Mrs. Renshaw in the district office. Their daughter had to have a kidney transplant, and the insurance hasn’t covered everything.”

“I’ll want the individual faculties to vote and decide what percent of their fund-raisers, if any, to donate. And now I’ll turn things over to your principal.”

Pete took his place behind the podium as the superintendent stepped away. “That’ll be all for this afternoon,” he said, “but we’ll be having another short meeting tomorrow at

8:00 sharp, to discuss our own fund-raiser.” “Scary.” Regan said to Tanya, as they walked back to their classrooms. “He looked orgasmic.”

“He was orgasmic. He’s wanted this for a long time.”

“Maybe he’ll relax once he has the position.” Tanya rolled her blue eyes and Regan sighed. “I guess we’ll just muscle through this year and hope the board is smart enough not to make the appointment permanent.”

“We can hope, but never discount the good-old-boy network. I think Pete has a shot at this. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d already decided to shoehorn him in.”

“Because of his charismatic personality?”

“Because of the eight state football and basketball championships. School boards and ex-athletes in positions of power like that kind of stuff.”



WHEN REGAN ARRIVED at the arena on Friday afternoon to pick up her new horse, she found Madison preoccupied, anxious about some problem with the upcoming clinic and ready to take it out on the first innocent person who crossed her path. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, Toffee made it clear he had no intention of getting into a small two-horse trailer.

Regan had just spent a long day trying to keep more than 150 adolescents under control and she was in no mood to deal with either of these two. Fortunately, though, the brand inspector, a man named Trev Paul, had a way with both horses and women.

He was a good-looking man, dark and lean, with an easy smile, but it was his patience and the sense that he saw more than he acknowledged that most impressed Regan. Both Madison and Toffee responded well to his combination of easy humor and quiet determination, and in a surprisingly short amount of time, Regan was following his truck and trailer back to her place.

Once they were there, Trev unloaded Toffee and led him around the house to the pasture. It was obvious the gelding had no more respect for Trev than he did for Regan, but Trev was big enough to do something about it. He elbowed the horse out of his space more than once on the walk from the trailer.

“This boy needs some groundwork,” Trev commented, as he released the horse into the knee-high grass.

“Amen to that,” Regan muttered.

“Are you going to Madison’s clinic?” Trev pushed his ball cap back and Regan found herself staring into a pair of stunning hazel eyes.

“Sure am.”

“You might talk to Will or Del. I’d suggest Will, since he lives here and you won’t have to skip a rent payment to pay him.”

Regan laughed. “Speaking of payment, you’re sure you won’t take anything for hauling Toffee?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure you can get your trailer out of this narrow driveway?”

“Yep.” He grinned. “See you around.”

Trev effortlessly reversed down the drive and made the tricky backward turn onto the county road in one shot. Regan hoped she’d be that competent once she bought a trailer, which would be in two years or so, the way things were going.

She had grading waiting for her, but instead of doing what she was supposed to be doing, she walked to the pasture to take another look at her horse. After all, how many times did a person get her first horse?

Her horse. Not a leased horse or a borrowed horse or a schooling horse.

He stood almost exactly where he’d been released, pulling up big mouthfuls of fresh grass, his dark coat shining in the late afternoon sun. Every now and then he would raise his head to look around, as if he couldn’t believe he had all this space, all this freedom—all this grass!—to himself.

With the exception of the grass, Regan knew exactly how he felt. She loved her mother and sister, but she was glad to be several hundred miles away from them and no longer required to act as a handy referee. And although dating Daniel had not put a crimp in her freedom, the aftermatch of their relationship had given her an an even deeper appreciation of independence.

Too bad it had been such a hard lesson.

Regan settled her forearms on the gate, telling herself to focus on the present, forget about the past, but she hated the fact that she’d been conned so masterfully—personally and professionally. She’d even broken a number of personal rules for him—don’t date a colleague, don’t let anyone get too close.

But after working with the guy for a year, team teaching a math and science pilot program at a middle school, she thought she knew him well enough to break those rules. They’d started dating and it had seemed a perfect relationship. They were close both personally and professionally, yet Daniel understood and respected Regan’s need to have her own space. He was supportive and attentive, generous. Almost perfect. Or so she thought.

Her professional goal at the time, heartily endorsed by her mother, Arlene, since it involved getting out of the classroom and into a power suit, was to secure a position with the Education Development Authority.

Over the course of that school year, she developed a package of innovative interactive lesson plans, which both she and Daniel used in their classes. With Daniel’s input, Reagan had fine-tuned the material. When EDA had announced a job opening, Regan was ready. But so was Daniel.

He’d been up front about the fact that he was applying for the job, as well. Regan had been a bit surprised, but she knew that was the way things were in the professional world. She convinced herself she didn’t have a problem with it. However she did have a problem with the fact that when it was her day to be interviewed, to present her materials and teach a demonstration lesson, it soon became apparent the interview committee had seen quite similar material before. The day before. During Daniel’s interview.

Maybe, if life was fair, neither of them would have gotten the job. But life wasn’t fair. Daniel had set the stage nicely, talking about his junior teaching colleague, Regan, who’d helped him tweak the lessons he’d spent so much time developing. It was only fair, after all, that she get a tiny portion of the credit.

At least Daniel had been smart enough to know that Regan would no longer be sharing his life after he’d accepted the job, so there had been no nasty breakup. Just a painful case of self-recrimination for trusting him, for almost convincing herself that she loved him.

She wouldn’t be making that mistake again.



WILL WENT THROUGH his equipment, setting aside the few things he planned to bring with him to the clinic. He didn’t need much. The horse would be there. All he needed was a sturdy halter, a rope, a saddle and a clear head. Three out of four wasn’t bad.

“Hey, Dad.” Kylie strolled into the barn, yawning but fully dressed and ready to go. The only time she got up willingly was when the day involved horses.

“Hey.”

She had on her good black cowboy hat, her T-shirt with a barrel racer emblazoned on the back and her new jeans, which were already getting too short. Shopping time again. He’d have to see if Sadie’s mom had a trip to Elko planned in the near future. No, maybe he’d take her himself. He didn’t want her in Elko without him just now.

“You look ready.”

She grinned at him. “So do you. Are you up first today?”

“Nope, second.” Del liked to go first. He was the headliner.

“Can Stubby come?” Both Kylie and the young border collie looked at Will hopefully.

Will shook his head. “Not yet.”

“He’ll behave.”

“He’ll eat the interior of my truck.”

“He didn’t eat much the last time.”

No. Just the gearshift knob, but Will wasn’t taking any chances. “Not this time.”

Kylie bent down to explain to the collie that he had to stay home, then she got into the truck as the pup slunk to the porch steps to watch them leave without him.

Will waited as Kylie fastened her seat belt and the surge of protectiveness he felt as he watched her small hands work the latch was almost overwhelming. He knew logically there was probably nothing to worry about, that Brett had been in the area for more than a month and he’d made no attempt to contact them, but paternal instinct and logic did not always jibe. In fact, in Will’s experience they rarely did.

“Ready?” Kylie’s dark eyes were shining with excitement. She loved any and all horse events—especially those that involved her dad. He smiled.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Kylie gave him a patient look. “I know you hate having all those people looking at you, but just imagine them in their underwear.”

“That’s a frightening thought, considering some of the people who will be there.” Kylie grinned. “I’d never thought of it that way. Do you think old Grandpa Meyers wears boxers or briefs?”

“Stop now.”

Kylie started giggling and Will put the truck in Reverse. The day was actually off to a decent start.



REGAN WAS THERE.

He’d been scanning the crowd, while Madison introduced Del, looking for his brother, just in case, when he spotted her on the opposite side of the arena. And then, since it kept his mind off his upcoming performance, he continued to watch her. He’d never seen her in jeans before, but they suited her. And he liked the way her chestnut hair was pulled back in a haphazard non-teacherish ponytail.

She had a notepad balanced on one thigh and from the moment Del stepped into the ring with his horse, her attention was focused on his performance. She jotted notes every couple of seconds, it seemed.

Will watched her as she wrote, wondering if she’d take notes on him, too. He told himself he’d check, but he knew that, once he was in the round pen with the mustang, all his attention would be focused there. It was the only way he ever got through public performances—by pretending the audience wasn’t there. Kylie’s classic underwear strategy didn’t work, primarily because of people like old Grandpa Meyers.

Lunch was the usual free-for-all, with the high school’s FFA club flipping burgers and people hustling Will and Del for free advice.

Just before it was Will’s turn to begin his afternoon performance, he eased away from the person he was talking to and approached Kylie and Sadie in the audience.

“Hey, would you guys do me a favor and stay here during the demonstration? In the front row?”

“Why?”

“I need some feedback and I want you to watch in order to give it.” He pulled the reason out of thin air, but it sounded good and he could see that Kylie liked it.

“Okay.”

“You won’t get bored and wander off?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I expect something constructive.”

“Be careful what you ask for,” Kylie quoted one of his favorite sayings. Will reached out, tapped the brim of her hat down and she laughed.

“Stay put,” he repeated.



WHEN MADISON ANNOUNCED the start of the final demonstration, Will walked to the center of the arena, his short chaps flapping just below his knees, his gaze down, so that it was impossible to see his face under the brim of the cowboy hat. But when he reached Madison, he tilted his hat back, gave a tight-lipped, well-here-I-am smile and looked as if he’d dearly love to be anywhere but where he was.

Madison talked about Will, his background and training strategies, but Will’s eyes were on the chute through which the mare would enter the round pen. There was some banging on the rails, as the horse was pushed into the paneled runway, then she emerged, her eyes round and wild.

She circled the round pen at a full gallop several times before coming to a stop at the side farthest away from the crowd. The rails were too high to jump, but she bunched up as if she was going to try. She continued to dance at the edge of the pen, desperately looking for a way out.

Will stood quietly until the mare threw him a wild glance over her shoulder and snorted. He took a slow step forward and the mare took off, galloping furiously around the pen, her hind feet kicking up divots and her attention outside the rails. Will moved to the center, pivoting as she circled, keeping his eyes on her, waiting for her to slow. When she did, he stepped forward quietly to get her moving again. This time her canter wasn’t quite as wild and every now and then she looked at the man in the center of the pen, trying to read him.

“What Will’s doing is controlling the mare’s movements—showing her that he is the lead animal, the boss,” Madison explained. Will also had a microphone clipped to his collar, but Regan wondered if he even had it turned on. “Horses want to know their place in the hierarchy of the herd and that’s what Will is establishing now. He’ll keep her moving, then give her an opportunity to stop when he wants her to stop.”

The demonstration continued, the crowd watched attentively as Will eventually approached the mare and then touched her. When she turned away from him, he set her moving again, repeating the pattern until she understood that he wouldn’t hurt her but if she didn’t hold still for him she’d have to run. And running was work.

Will continued approaching and backing off, asking her to allow him to do as much as she could tolerate, then releasing pressure by backing away for a moment. In the end, he was able to rub her all over, halter her and saddle her. Madison kept up a running commentary throughout the entire procedure.

Finally, Will stepped away from the mare and walked to the edge of the round pen. The mare followed. He ran a hand over her neck when she stopped, facing him.

“I’m not going to get on her,” he said, speaking for the first time since the start of the demonstration. “She’s done enough for one day. I hope I’ve been able to show you guys something during this demonstration. If there are any questions…?”

Several hands shot up and Regan leaned back in her seat as Madison began fielding the questions.

After the demonstration, Will was surrounded by people—mostly women, Regan noticed as she gathered her notebook and purse—and although he was polite, she had a feeling that like the mustang mare, all he wanted to do was escape.



WILL WATCHED REGAN LEAVE the arena over the head of a woman who was outlining her horse’s behavior in a rather long-winded manner. He redirected his attention and listened, thinking that this woman’s only problem was that she babied her animal. When he told her that, she wasn’t happy with the answer. She wanted her horse to mind her because he loved her, not because she was the boss. Will opened his mouth to tell her that horses were not wired that way, but instead he just nodded. If she’d sat through both his and Del’s presentations and hadn’t yet picked that up, then she was only going to hear what she wanted to hear. Some people couldn’t understand that affection and boundaries could actually go hand in hand.

When he’d answered his last question, he found Kylie in the front row where he’d left her. Sadie was gone, but another girl had taken her place.

“Honest,” she was saying to Kylie as Will approached. She suddenly noticed that Will was there. “I gotta go. See you tomorrow.”

“What’s that all about?” Will asked after the girl left.

Kylie frowned. “She said that she saw a guy who looked just like you in Elko yesterday.”

Will felt an instant tightening in his midsection, but before he could think of something to say, Kylie screwed up her forehead and said, “Gee, Dad. You don’t suppose it’s Uncle Brett, do you?”


CHAPTER FOUR

“WELL, do you think it was him?” Kylie repeated a few seconds later.

“Might have been.”

“Aren’t you curious?”

Kylie was certainly curious. She always had been and the older she got, the more curious she’d become. He didn’t blame her. The kid hardly had any relatives and the few she did have were not part of her world. So far, they’d only had a few brief discussions about Brett and the fact that Will and his brother hadn’t been in contact for more than a decade. She’d eventually stopped asking, but he knew she still wondered about her uncle.

“Get your stuff together.”

“Dad.” He frowned down at his daughter’s perplexed expression. “Don’t you ever want to see him again? I mean, was what happened really bad?”

“It wasn’t good.” Will made an effort to sound matter-of-fact. “And maybe someday Brett and I will get together and hash things out, but I don’t think it’s going to be any time soon.”

Kylie bit her lip and let the subject go, even though Will knew she wanted—deserved—answers. He couldn’t give her answers just yet. And he didn’t know if he ever could.

They started toward the truck, Will carrying the saddle and blanket and Kylie carrying the halter and rope.

“You know, Dad, you did really good in your demonstration.”

“Thanks, kid.” He appreciated her changing the subject, but he knew they’d be facing it again one of these days.

“You might try talking a little, you know, like Del does. Madison does all right, but I think people’d like to hear you explain more of it.”

“All right,” he said. “I’ll try. Anything else?”

“Nope.” She flipped the end of the rope as she walked. “Sadie was kind of weird today. She kept looking around, instead of watching the performance. And she asked me if I wanted to buy makeup with her when we go to Elko. I said okay, but,” she puckered her forehead, “whenever we put on her mom’s stuff, I forget and rub my eyes and it gets all over.”




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